This brought the Oregonians decisively to what was to be done; whether to tell their discoveries to the Californians, or Sutter, or to take vengeance into their own hands. The former course seemed entirely useless, as they felt sure that the Californians knew enough of the affair already, and had decided to let the Oregonians take care of themselves. Confirmation of the guilt of the Indians, if any were needed, was found in the report of an American who kept a horse ranch at some distance from town. He had, shortly before, seen a large number of Indians coming down the mountain side on foot, and dispersed in separate groups, and not in single file, as he had always observed them before. They were evidently that part of the band who had led a trail off to the mountains, returning home. The Oregonians concluded, therefore, that the only way to put an end to the murders was to proceed precisely as they would out on the plains; that is, make war on the Indians irrespective of the California authorities and wipe out the tribe, if that was necessary. This was accordingly done. The tribe was found and surprised by the band of thirteen armed Oregonians. Twenty-six of the Indians were killed on the instant. No women were shot, however, though they fought the same as the men. They and six men surrendered. Greenwood shouted as the blow was struck, “Now, this is what you get for killing Columbia River men.” After the surrender, the Indian women began weeping and wailing in a manner truly heart-rending over the bodies of their dead husbands and fathers; but they acknowledged that the punishment was just, as they had killed the Columbia River men. But they pleaded that they were told to do it, which, if true, cannot but create a feeling of sympathy for them, the unfortunate dupes. After the slaughter and surrender, Hill mounted his horse and rode to Coloma, and the six Indian men were hurried after under a guard, and the women and children were driven after these by the rest of the thirteen Oregonians. It was 4 o’clock when Hill arrived. The six Indians were but a short distance behind, and hardly had been placed in prison, together with the Indian spy, at Winter’s mill, who was owned as a leading partner in the crime, when the remnant of the tribe, on the run, with the Oregonians galloping behind them, came into town. It was a burning day, the mercury standing at 106° in the shade, but the distance from the scene of the slaughter, forty miles, had been covered since 11 o’clock that forenoon. The town was excited beyond measure. Men and boys to the number of hundreds gathered in a circle about the Oregonians, who drove the tribe to the shelter of a spreading pine tree, in whose shade they lay stretched on the ground. There was great complaint and deep mutterings on the part of the Californians, who said, “See what you have done! We can stay here no longer. There are eighty thousand Indians in